His Heart Failure
by CheetahLiv
Summary: Perry's blood turned to ice when he saw the white sputum coating the younger doctor's lips. Heart failure. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1: Dr Cox

**AN: I wrote this on a train from Chicago to Ann Arbor--inspiration strikes at the most random times, eh? Anyway, please review! Chapter 2 will be up as soon as I finish it. :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Scrubs belongs to ABC and Bill Lawrence, and probably a bunch of other people too. But not me.  
**

He's hovering just outside the doorway. He doesn't want to be here. He feels so helpless—he's not used to not being in total control of a situation. Add to that the fact that he shouldn't even care about his patient—he never used to care about patients—but, God help him, he couldn't help but give a damn about this one.

_~Flashback~_

He pulled off his rubber gloves, snapping them loudly as he did so to distract himself. He had made fun of the kid during his physical to try and keep his professional distance. After all, it wouldn't do any good to go and get emotionally involved, lest the kid run off and tell all his friends that "my mentor has a heart after all!" He suppressed a groan at the thought, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. All these thoughts were only distracting him from the arduous task awaiting him—filling out the paperwork and delivering the results of the physical to the patient. Vasovagal syncope…

Despite his better judgment, he had agreed to come here, their favorite bar for a surprise party for his 35th birthday. Damn it all if he didn't still have a soft spot for Carla—if it hadn't been for her, he never would have shown up. Well, that's the story he was telling himself. He entered the bar and quickly spotted the group, a familiar head of ridiculously gelled dark hair facing away from the door. He contemplated backing out of his agreement and leaving the bar, but just as he was about to turn, Elliot looked up and, noticing him, waved him over to an open seat…right next to the guest-of-honor. He growled at her indiscretion and succeeded in attracting several strange looks from patrons of the establishment who had been close enough to hear him. Running a hand through his curls, he sighed and made his way to the merry foursome's table.

"Hey, Dr. Cox!" JD exclaimed, thrilled at the older doctor's presence and even more excited to see him take the open seat to his left.

"Happy birthday, kid," Cox muttered, wanting to tell him so much more, if only his friends hadn't been nearby. JD seemed to sense the unspoken sentiments, and shot him a sideways glance he couldn't quite read before announcing to the group, "I'm going up for another appletini. Who wants anything?" Carla, Turk, and Elliot waved him off, but Cox put his hand on the younger man's arm and quietly requested a scotch. JD nodded, said, "I'll be right back," and headed toward the bar.

Cox watched him go, not noticing his overt staring until he heard a louder-than-necessary throat clearing behind him. He turned back to Turk, Elliot, and Carla, sporting respective looks of disgust, intrigue, and smug knowing. "What?" he snapped. "Just wanted to make sure Newbie didn't have too many in him to get to the bar."

"Yeah right, dude. You were totally checking out V-Bear. What the hell, man?" Turk began angrily, before his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in shock. Cox turned around to see what had happened behind his back that had offset the surgeon's rant. What he saw turned his blood to ice.

JD was swaying on his feet, his eyes rolling back in his head. The drinks he had been carrying back from the bar slipped from his hands, crashing on the floor of the bar, the glasses shattering. Cox bolted out of his seat and rushed to JD's side just in time to catch him as he collapsed to the floor. Cradling JD in his arms, he shouted over his shoulder, "Carla, call 911!" His fingers, fingers that had never shook in crises, were fumbling and slipping, his hands quaking violently as he strained to feel a pulse. He breathed a silent prayer to gods he didn't even believe in, and there it was, beating away far too quickly and erratically. But his stomach dropped when he saw white sputum coating JD's lips. "Heart failure," he whispered, unbelieving.

**Please review! Let me know what you thought of it. Chapter 2 up soon.**

**~CheetahLiv  
**


	2. Chapter 2: Dr Cox

**AN: Hi again! Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. Real life has been keeping me occupied. Hope this chapter is worth the wait! :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Still. Except for that box of Little Debbies on the fridge. Nope, my roommate claims they're her's. Dang it!**

He enters the room slowly, hesitant to break the aura of stillness pervading the room. By force of habit he reaches for the chart hanging at the end of the bed and flicks through its contents, trained eyes cutting through all the extra notes to read the essentials. No change in vital signs.

Sighing, he drops the chart back in its holder and begins to fiddle with the various monitors filling the room, keeping his mind focused on anything other than the pale, still figure lying in the bed. Finally though, he's run out of things to meddle with, and his attention settles on the comatose occupant of the room.

"Damn it, JD," he mutters under his breath. There is no response, not that he really expected one. Odd how he once dreaded seeing the kid's mouth open, cringed as his ears were assaulted by some annoying and irritating question. Now he would give anything to hear JD's grating, girly voice again.

Suddenly he flied into a rage, powerful legs lashing out at the hard plastic chair by the bed, knocking it into the wall. Fingers curled into fists propel into the wall, seemingly of their own volition. But the outburst is over as quickly as it had precipitated, and his arms drop back to his sides, shoulders slumping. He rights the upturned chair, then drops into it, his 47 years weigh more heavily on him than ever before.

"You have to pull through, JD," he whispers softly, unaware of the sympathetic brown eyes watching him through the window. "I don't know what I'd do if you don't."


	3. Chapter 3: Carla

**AN: So, here's another chapter. Hope you enjoy it! I certainly enjoy getting reviews, so...you know...review...yeah. Let me know what you think of the characterizations, I had a friend who doesn't really watch Scrubs read this over for me and she thought the characters may have been ooc, so REVIEW and share your opinions! :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Scrubs. I wish I did, but I don't.  
**

She can hear the sounds of chaos all around her. The other patrons were either too drunk to have noticed JD's collapse or were just-drunk-enough to find it humorous. The bartender is trying to get everyone to settle down, shouting for them to be quiet and get out of the way. She can barely hear herself think.

She pushes her way through the crowd, elbowing and shoving to get to the side door. Outside, it's quieter, and her cell phone has better reception. She flips the phone open, fingers trembling as they push three buttons. She tries to tell herself that she's shaking because of the cold, but she's not able to delude herself that much.

"911, what's your emergency?" she hears faintly; lost in her thoughts, her hand had lowered to her side. She quickly recovers, snapping the phone up to meet her ear and stating the situation quickly, calmly, and efficiently, like any nurse would in an emergency. The responder hangs up after assuring her an ambulance is on the way.

Now that her assigned task is over, she closes the phone absentmindedly, her thoughts racing and tears burning behind her eyelids. _Come on, Carla!_ she scolds herself. _Pull yourself together! Bambi needs you!_ Angrily wiping away the few tears that had managed to escape, she straightens up, squares her shoulders, and re-enters the bar.

The chaos that had reigned when she'd stepped outside was gone. With Turk's help, the bartender had gotten the majority of the patrons to clear out, and those remaining are more restrained, barely tipsy. She hears the manager of the establishment ask Elliot, "What happened here?" Elliot explains that JD has a weak heart, that this wasn't the bar's fault, and that no one would sue. Carla smiles a bit at that—the manager reminds her of Ted, the sad-sack lawyer of Sacred Heart.

She finds Turk at JD's side. For once, her husband and Perry aren't arguing; both are far too worried about their friend to bicker about perceived slights. She opens her mouth to tell Perry an ambulance is on the way, but before she can get the words out, a siren can be heard wailing in the distance.

"About damn time," Perry snaps as the paramedics rush in, wheeling a gurney behind them. He and Turk are forced out of the way, and in a flash, JD's loaded up, an oxygen mask strapped over his mouth and nose. Perry refuses to take no for an answer when the paramedics won't let him ride in the ambulance with JD. Carla places her hand on his arm and softly says, "We'll take our car, it's big enough to hold all four of us, and we'll be right behind them. Arguing with the EMTs is only going to waste precious time."

Her logic prevails. His arm relaxes under her hand, and he nods in resigned acceptance. The others were already in the couple's Mini Cooper, Turk tensed in the driver's seat and Elliot, sitting stiffly with tears streaming down her face. Carla crawls in the backseat to join Elliot, and as soon as Perry's inside the car, Turk shifts into gear, not even waiting for the passenger door to close completely before peeling out of the parking lot to follow the ambulance.

From her vantage point she can see Turk's white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. He's staring intently at the road ahead, driving as fast as possible without breaking the law. She looks to Perry, and in the sporadic light from the occasional passing car's headlamps she can see his jaw is clenched. "It'll be okay, it will, it's JD, it has to be okay, nothing bad can happen to him," she hears Elliot's mantra repeated over and over again, and she finds herself wishing desperately that that were true.

"Nurse Turkleton?"

She snaps out of the memory, unaware until that moment that she had been staring at reluctant mentor and protégé through JD's hospital room window. _At least it wasn't Perry that caught me_, she thought, although being caught wasting time by the Chief of Medicine wasn't much better.

"Yes, Dr. Kelso?" she responds quietly, turning to face him and fully expecting to be reamed out. However, the older man's eyes belie his gruff tone of voice as he asks, "How's he doing?"

"There's been no change in his vitals since he was admitted, and it's looking like he's going to need a heart transplant—" she begins, to be cut off by Kelso shaking his head.

"No, not Dorian. What I meant was, how's Perry doing?" he clarified.

"Frankly, sir, I didn't think you of all people would give a damn," she replies, shocked by both his query and her own daring.

"Nurse Turkleton, do you really think I'm that cold-hearted of a bastard to not care when one of my doctors is severely ill and another is out of commission as a result?" Carla looks away, her eyes full of shame. She hadn't meant to be so harsh to Kelso, but JD's worsening condition had left her nerves frayed.

"Sorry, Dr. Kelso," she mumbled her apology, embarrassed by her loss of temper, and towards her boss of all people.

"It's alright. A lot of people around here see me as a cold, unfeeling sonuvabitch. You're not the only one. Just…keep an eye on Perry for me, will you?"

She nods her acceptance and listens to the muffled clicking noise his wingtips make on the hospital tile as he walks away.


	4. Chapter 4: JD

**AN: Sorry for the long break in between updates. Life has been incredibly hectic, I've had back-to-back midterms and papers due all week, and anyway, this story was sadly neglected. But here's chapter 4! Let me know what you think of it by reviewing! :) Also, please forgive me any medical errors--I'm a psychology student, not a med student!**

**Disc: Don't own, so don't sue.  
**

The first thing he's aware of is the sweltering heat. _Must have accidently turned up the thermostat in the middle of the night._ He almost nods off again, the darkness calling to him, but then there's this insistent beeping noise right next to his ear, and he can't go back to sleep with the sound pounding in his brain. He stifles an irritated groan, and giving up on sleep for the moment, struggles to open his eyes. He's never been a morning person exactly, and right now he's damning his alarm clock to the seventh circle of hell for waking him up.

His eyes finally slide open, and reality comes crashing down upon him. He's not at home like he'd thought. It's so hot because Sacred Heart's thermostat is always set to 70 degrees for the patients in their flimsy hospital-issued robes, and that beeping noise is coming from his own heart rate and O2 saturation monitors, cables winding from the machines and attaching to leads on his chest and a clip on his forefinger. The frequency of the beeps increases as he realizes the wooshing sound he thought he'd heard was not from Turk's soft snoring because he and Turk had fallen asleep on the couch in their apartment, but was actually issuing from the respirator sitting next to his bed.

He begins to panic, choking and coughing, fingers scrabbling against the hard plastic tube shoved down his throat. Voices soon surround him, telling him to calm down. Hands are grasping his, restraining his arms from ripping the respirator tube out himself. Too far gone in fear, JD is oblivious to the medical personnel around him. Then he feels a heavy hand grasp his shoulder, commanding his attention. He turns his terror-filled gaze upward to meet Dr. Cox's eyes. The older doctor is stern but gentle as he commands, "Calm down, Newbie. You know what to do to get this thing out."

JD coughs obediently, his eyes never leaving Dr. Cox's. "Atta boy, Newbie," Cox says as the plastic tube slides out of his mouth, leaving a vile coating on his tongue. He feels a cup being placed in his hands, and his gaze finally leaves the older doctor's as he glances towards the side of the bed to see who had given him the water. Carla, of course. He gulps the water greedily, his dry throat thankful for the moisture. "Thanks, Carla," he rasps out when the cup is drained.

"Don't mention it, Bambi," she tells him, smoothing his hair out of his eyes. Suddenly, she's enveloping him in a tight embrace, sobbing and murmuring in a mix of Spanish and English. He can't quite make out what she's saying, but that's okay—he's just happy to be off the respirator. He hears Cox mutter something along the lines of, "leave the girls to their mushy sobfest," and he storms out of the room. At the sound of the door closing, Carla regains her composure, wiping away the tears from her face. She pulls away, a sheepish smile on her face.

A thousand questions running through his mind, he settles on the most immediate one. "What's his problem?" he asks, looking out the window to where Cox is standing by the nurses' station, scribbling instructions on a chart.

"Don't be too harsh on him, Bambi," Carla admonishes. JD turns to look at her questioningly. "You should have seen him when you collapsed at the bar three days ago. He was worried sick about you, and he's barely left your bedside since you were admitted."

"Really?" JD asks, incredulous. "But…but he hates me!"

"Think again, Clarise," comes a voice from the door, and JD flushes as his eyes snap towards the dark figure of his mentor silhouetted in the frame. "Carla, will you excuse us?" he requests, although his tone dares her to defy him. She gets the hint, stands and smoothes down her scrubs, and with a last smile, leaves without a word, shutting the door behind her.

JD's stomach is churning, his heart pounding. Unfortunately he's still hooked up to the monitor which beeps traitorously along. Cox chuckles. "Nervous, Annabelle?" Not trusting his voice at the moment, JD's only response is a nod.

"Well, relax. Don't want to tax your heart any more than is necessary," Cox says, moving to take a seat next to the bed. After a few moments spent studying the older doctor in silence, JD blurts out a question.

"What exactly happened, Dr. Cox? I mean, at the bar. The last thing I remember was—" he breaks off, embarrassed. _Your hand on my arm as you told me your drink order…_

Cox lets his abrupt stop go and shrugs his shoulders, suddenly refusing to meet JD's gaze. "You, uh…you collapsed. Your pulse was way too fast and you started to cough up…white sputum. Carla called 911 and Gandhi and I stabilized you as best we could until the EMTs arrived. They brought you here, and you've been unconscious for the past three days." Cox rattles off the story, barely pausing to take breaths. He's still avoiding looking at JD, and now the younger man is beginning to worry.

"Perry," he begins, noting how his first-name usage finally causes Cox to stare at him. "You're not telling me everything. There's something else, isn't there?"

The older man averts his gaze again, and now JD knows. This is worse than a case of a bad vasovagal syncope reaction. This is…

"Acute heart failure," Cox softly admits, and JD feels as though he's been punched in the stomach. "You're on a transplant list, but organs are hard to come by, and hearts are especially rare. Kelso moved you as far up the wait list as he could, but it'll most likely be a while before you get a match."

JD's mind was still reeling as Cox stands and places a large, calloused hand on his forearm, a position eerily similar to the last time they'd physically touched three days ago.

"I'm sorry, Newbie."

And with that, he's gone, leaving JD alone to be plagued by thoughts of his own mortality.


	5. Chapter 5: Elliot

**AN: Hi again! I've been filled with inspiration again, I can't believe it! Another update this week, you all are so lucky :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and as always, I love love love reviews. Thanks to all of you who have been reviewing, you all brighten my day like you wouldn't believe.**

**Disc.: Nope, still don't own Scrubs.  
**

Elliot slowly makes her way to the on-call room, her feet dragging. She's pulling a double shift, and with six hours before she can go home, she's almost completely drained. Two patients have crashed on her watch tonight, and she had to work on one of them for over ten minutes before she brought him back to this side of the veil. The adrenaline rush allows her to do her job, but right now all she wants is to catch a half-hour of sleep to rejuvenate her enough to get her through the rest of her shift.

The on-call room is mercifully empty, and Elliot collapses in the nearest bed, not even bothering to turn down the sheets first. The scratchy blanket is rough on her face, but she couldn't care less—she just wants sleep. But just as her eyes are sliding shut, her pager begins to beep shrilly.

"Frick!" she grumbles, snatching the offensive black box from her hip and glaring at it. The message scrolling across the screen banishes any feeling of annoyance at the interruption, her blood turning to ice.

Worries about sleep forgotten, she all but leaps from the bed, dashing to the door and flinging it open. She sprints down the hall; already she can hear one of the night nurses calling a code, and she bursts into the room in full doctor mode.

"Where are the paddles?" They're being pressed into her hands.

"Charging…clear!" A shock pulses through the body, all eyes in the room trained on the monitor.

"Still in v-tach. Clear!" Another shock, yet the monitor still shrieks its warning.

"Push 10mg epi. Clear!" A pause, then, "No change. Clear!" Finally the monitor stops wailing, a normal heartbeat re-establishing.

Elliot sets aside the defibrillator paddles and pushes sweaty bangs out of her eyes. She drags over a chair that had been shoved aside during the code and plops gracelessly into it. She places one unnaturally cold hand on top of her patient's.

"God, JD," she whispers softly, though it is unlikely he'll wake anytime soon. "We're a pair, aren't we?" She laughs humorlessly, trying in vain to stop the tears from dripping off the tip of her nose and forming small dark circles on the bedsheets. "Your heart is failing, and mine is breaking."

She breaks down, her composure completely gone. She lays her head on the bed next to their entwined hands, and maybe it's her imagination, but she could swear she felt his hand squeeze hers a little.

Elliot managed to sleep for a few hours, although it had been slumped in the unforgiving hard plastic chair. JD had made it through the night, despite his heart's intentions. She wakes abruptly when someone places a hand on her shoulder, jostling her slightly. She jolts awake, ready for another code, only to look up and see Dr. Cox standing over her. He looks as though he's had just as restful a night as her; his eyes are drawn and tired, and he is carrying a more haggard air than normal.

He gestures for her to join him in the hall, and she stifles a groan as various body parts that had spent the night curled in uncomfortable positions finally stretch out. She rolls her head, trying to relieve the knots of tension at the base of her neck. As she reaches the door, she turns to glance one last time at JD, then quietly shuts the door and turns to face Dr. Cox.

"Well, Barbie, I'm sure surprised Clarabelle made it through the night, seeing as you were the attending on call," he baits her, but the barb lacks its usual acerbity. He straightens up and crosses his arms when she tells him he nearly didn't.

"He crashed three times last night, Dr. Cox," she informs him quietly. "The last time he nearly didn't pull through. He needs a heart transplant, Dr. Cox. He's not gonna make it to the end of the week without one."

**Too sappy? Too ooc? Let me know! :)**


	6. Chapter 6: Kelso and Turk

**AN: Hello again! Here's another chapter. Well, actually it's two combined, as both were rather short. More is coming, and soon, I promise! And as always, please review!**

**Disc: I own nothing.  
**

"How soon?...Excellent. Thanks."

He hangs up the phone just as a knock sounds on his door. He barely has time to say "come in" before it's pushed open forcefully and Cox enters.

He chuckles. "You always have to make an entrance, don't you, Perry?" The redhead is not amused, barely glaring at the older doctor before starting to pace around the office.

"Look Bobbo, Mary-Ann is—"

"Who?"

"Newbie."

"I'm sorry, who?"

A sigh, then, "Dr. Dorian," said through gritted teeth.

"Ah, yes. About that, I—" but Kelso is cut off by Cox's rant.

"He needs a heart, dammit! And granted, so do you, as you are in fact a heartless, money-hungry bastard, but I meant it in the more literal sense. Did you know he crashed three times last night? Three goddamn times! That's enough to push him to the top of the transplant list." Cox stops pacing and plants his hands on the desk, staring the Chief of Medicine in the eye.

Kelso stands, not allowing Cox to intimidate him. "Perry, I just got off the horn with St. Luke's in Santa Barbara. They have a heart for Dorian, it's being airlifted here as we speak. Should arrive in, oh, thirty minutes. So if I were you, instead of standing here ranting at me, I'd be calling an OR and having them prep for transplant."

Cox says nothing, his face blank, yet as he leaves the office Kelso is sure the man's eyes are grateful.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Turk is leaning on the counter of the nurses' station, waiting for Carla to show up. His shift started four hours ago, and except for a routine appendectomy, his day has been fairly dull. He's been loitering for about three minutes and is just about to ask Laverne if she knows where Carla is when his pager beeps.

He unclips the small black box from his scrubs and holds it up to read. "Damn, I gotta go. Laverne!" he calls, the nurse looking at him, "Would you tell Carla I stopped by to see her, but I gotta go scrub in, okay?" She nods, and then he's off, racing down the hall towards the operating wing.

He arrives at the OR out-of-breath and asks Dr. Wen what they're prepping for, praying that it won't be yet another appendectomy.

"Organ transplant. Airlift is expected to arrive in ten minutes," Dr. Wen informs Turk in his calm voice.

Turk can't believe it. "A transplant? You want me to assist you in a transplant? What organ?" he asks, hoping it'll be a complex organ like a liver or a spleen.

"It's a heart."

Turk's jaw goes slack as realization dawns. "A heart? For JD?" Wen nods. "But Dr. Wen, you know he's my best friend. It'd be unethical, not to mention dangerous, if I were to assist you in his transplant."

Wen turns and looks Turk in the eye, his tone serious as he replies, "I know all about the ethical implications, Dr. Turk. Dr. Turner will be assisting on the transplant; you will be taking the place of one of the surgical nurses. I thought you might want to be in the room while we perform the transplant."

"Thanks, Dr. Wen," Turk says quietly, touched by his attending's consideration.

"You're welcome, Dr. Turk. Now get in there and scrub up, the airlift will be here any minute."


	7. Chapter 7: Janitor

**AN: Sorry for the long break between uploads--I had a week full of midterms then a week of spring break, so this story was sadly neglected. Also, I know this chapter is short, but I have the next chapter already written, it just needs a bit of tweaking then it'll be up. Thanks for your patience, and as always, reviews are love! :)**

**Disc: I own nothing.  
**

Janitor is working—well, as much as he ever works around the hospital. And the inside of the elevator is as good a place to "clean" as any. Lifting a spray bottle to his nose, he sniffs to determine if the blue solution sloshing inside is Windex or Gatorade. He prepares to squirt some into his mouth to test when there is a _ping!_ and the gray metal doors of the elevator slide open. He quickly lowers the bottle and tries to look nonchalant as Scary Nurse, Blonde Doctor, and Angry Doctor wheel a gurney into the elevator.

The interior space is cramped, and Janitor finds himself pressed against the back door. He hears the three talking, but is too distracted by the beautiful blonde on his left to pay much attention to what they're saying. The elevator jostles as the doors close, causing the gurney to bump into his legs. He glances down and is surprised to see a familiar head of dark hair resting on the pillow.

"Scooter?" he asks, the medical personnel halting their conversation to stare at him. "What's wrong with him?"

Angry Doctor glares. "He's headed to an OR for a heart transplant," he rants, flicking his nose in irritation. "Didn't you notice he's been in that hospital room for almost a week? Honestly, I know you're not that bright, but I'd have thought even you would have noticed that the target of all your pranks was missing."

Janitor merely shrugs his shoulders. "Oh, I noticed he was gone, but I thought he'd finally cracked under the pressure and my ultimate goal of breaking his spirit had been achieved. Guess not. I'll just have to try harder once he's back on his feet." The joke rolls off his tongue, instinctively masking his concern.

Angry Doctor snarls. "Listen, Jumpsuit, if you so much as lay a hand on him again, I will personally make sure you regret it." He crosses his arms across his chest as though to emphasize his seriousness.

He is unfazed by both the threat and the critical "tut-tut" muttered by Scary Nurse, but it is the disappointed look in Blonde Doctor's eyes that cuts to his core. He's about to open his mouth to apologize (or make another joke, he's not quite sure), when the portable heart rate monitor starts beeping in warning. Angry Doctor tenses, Blonde Doctor pales, and then the monitor flatlines.

Everyone leaps into action, and Janitor is pushed out of the way, his back pressing up against the doors. The elevator _pings!_ open, and Janitor tumbles out into the hall. He scrambles out of the way as Blonde Doctor and Scary Nurse push the gurney down the hall, Angry Doctor riding on top of the gurney, beating urgently on Scooter's chest to keep his heart going until they reach an OR. The two women appear to be having trouble steering the gurney with Angry Doctor's added weight, and Janitor makes up his mind in an instant.

Standing, he races to catch up and grabs hold of the end of the gurney, adding his strength to help push the kid down the hall. Angry Doctor glances up for a fraction of a second, blue eyes quickly judging the sincerity of brown before he goes back to CPR.

It feels like an eternity to Janitor before they reach the OR. Someone must have seen them exit the elevator, he reasons, because a doctor in green scrubs is standing with paddles ready. Angry Doctor jumps off the gurney as Scary Nurse pulls open Scooter's hospital gown.

The surgeon is a commanding presence, running the code calmly as he shouts out, "Clear!"

Janitor feels chills running up his spine as electricity shocks through the body, but the heart rate monitor keeps wailing…

**Sorry about the cliffhanger, folks! Chapter 8 will be up soon, don't worry! And don't forget to review! :)**


	8. Chapter 8: JD

**AN: I'm so so so sorry this didn't get uploaded earlier! It's been written for a while, but I've been terribly busy with school and real life stuff for the past few weeks, so I only got the chance to edit this tonight. Sorry! Anyway, here it is, better late than never, yes? As always, please review!**

**Disc: I own nothing Scrubs-related.  
**

JD's eyes open abruptly, darting around frantically. He sees Elliot, her shoulders tense and a frown creasing her brow. Carla is standing over him, worry evident in her dark eyes. Janitor is next to him too, and JD realizes that he's lying down. He sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the gurney and hopping to the floor. He's surprised when the other occupants of the elevator don't even glance at him. Puzzled, he follows their gaze to see…

…himself, pale and unconscious on the gurney. He's a bit stunned, not terribly worried. After all, he's had out-of-body experiences before—he watched his own appendectomy over Turk's shoulder a few years back. So he's content to let himself float away from his body and hover a few feet away, behind everyone else. But the funny thing about being in limbo is that he can't hear anything—it's as though his ears are plugged with cotton balls, and all sound is muffled. The high pitched wail of the heart rate monitor—_his _heart rate monitor—filters through the haze to register in his brain. As he watches, Cox leaps into action, clambering on top of the gurney and beginning CPR.

JD floats behind the group as they rush to an OR. He wonders how Elliot and Carla are going to be able to maneuver the gurney now with Cox's extra weight, and is shocked when Janitor grabs a handle and starts to push. _Maybe he doesn't hate me as much as I'd thought_, JD wonders, then realizes with a start that they've gotten ahead of him, and he hurries to catch up. Cox is still pounding on JD's chest, desperate to get the heart beating again. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes are screaming.

The group reaches the OR, where Dr. Wen has paddles ready. Cox slips off the gurney as Wen takes over the code. JD has never known what the older doctor's feelings towards him were, but right now, he's wearing his heart on his sleeve. He flinches with every shock of electricity delivered to the body. His knuckles are white, the calloused hands clenched into fists at his sides. His lips are moving, almost imperceptibly, and JD has to lean in close to hear.

The attending's breath tickles JD's ear, but the man's words send chills down his spine. "Don't let go, JD. You have to fight, you have to pull through this. I have to tell you that I—"

But JD doesn't get to hear the rest of the sentence, because Wen is setting the paddles aside, an unreadable expression on his face. Cox pales, and JD realizes with a start that he is too, fading away before his own eyes.

"No! Perry!" he shouts, knowing it's useless and that he cannot be heard. He summons his remaining strength and glides (not nearly as effortlessly as before) to stand in front of Perry. He is astonished to see moisture glistening in Perry's eyes. JD tries to wipe the tears away, brushing the pad of his thumb across Perry's cheek, but to no avail. He sees his last chance slipping away—his body is dying, and fast. He's almost transparent now.

Gripping the older man's shoulders, he leans in close. "I love you, Perry Cox," he whispers, then closes the distance between them. The kiss is brief, a tentative pressing together of lips. And the fleeting moment passes, and JD fades away to nothing.

And nobody notices Perry run his thumb over his lips.

**Please let me know what you think. There will probably only be one or two more chapters, so review while you can! Yes, I am a review whore, in case you hadn't noticed :)**


	9. Chapter 9: Dr Cox

**AN: I'm so terribly sorry for the incredibly long hiatus. I know I've used this excuse before, but real life has once again taken priority over fandom. Unfortunately. But now I've updated! And this is the last chapter, so now I can finally say that I've finished a multi-chapter fic, something I've never accomplished before! To anyone who is still reading this, THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for not giving up on me. Please, enjoy! And as always, I own absolutely nothing.**

**PS. I turned 21 yesterday and ordered an appletini at dinner. Now I know why JD likes them so much! :)  
**

Perry starts as Carla lays a hand on his shoulder, the gentle touch unexpected. He lifts his red-rimmed eyes to meet hers. She smiles sadly at him, and he turns his head, unable to bear the look of pity crossing her face.

"Go home, Perry," she whispers hoarsely. "You can't do anything for him now."

He shrugs her hand off angrily and stands, joints screaming in protest at this first movement in many hours. He kicks the hard plastic chair he'd just vacated, sending it skidding across the room. Carla simply watches him, accustomed to the older man's tendency to unleash his anger on inanimate objects. Cox's rage subsides as the chair rebounds off the wall, the dull thump reverberating throughout the small room. The muscles in his neck and shoulders untense—if it were anyone other than the formidable Dr. Cox, he would have been described as drooping. He looks at the floor as Carla calls his name softly.

"Go home, Perry," she implores as she crosses the room to stand in front of him. "He wouldn't like to see you so stressed. Please?" Once again, their eyes meet, and this time Cox gives in.

"Fine, Carla. I'll leave. Are you happy now?" he asks gruffly, though she's known him long enough to tell that his tone of voice is a cover, masking his true sentiment. As she ushers him to the door, he turns pleading eyes towards her.

"Carla," he begins, to be cut off by her nodding her assent to the unasked question.

"I know, Perry," she says, and watches as his retreating form disappears around the corner.

Cox doesn't leave the hospital right away, instead detouring to the locker room to shower. He opens his locker, hanging up his white lab coat and toeing off his sneakers and socks to slip into sandals for the shower—there's no way he'd stand on the tile floor barefoot. Who knew what hospital employees did in there? He represses a shudder as an image of the Todd and his banana hammock sprang to his mind. Maybe he should have gone home after all…

Too late to change his mind, Perry steps into the shower, thankful that it's the middle of the night shift and it's unlikely he'll be interrupted. He turns the tap as far as possible, the superheated spray of water pounding into his shoulders. He knows the hot water is turning his skin bright red, but the stinging sensation proves a welcome distraction. The rhythmic sound of cascading water is soothing, allowing him to drift away in his thoughts.

Only when the water turns cold does he realize how long he'd been in the shower. He turns off the tap and steps out, nearly slipping on the wet tiles. He dresses quickly, methodically. Grabbing his lab coat and pager, he heads downstairs for the lobby of Sacred Heart. He's pushing open the door, heading out to the parking lot where his Porsche is waiting, when his pager buzzes, signaling missed pages.

He holds the black box up to his eyes, squinting in the dim light, and is surprised to see he has four missed pages, all from Carla. His heart plummets to the floor and he doesn't even pause to read them before he takes off at a sprint up to the third floor ICU.

The door to _his _room is wide open, the lights on, and Perry can see the backs of Carla and a gray-haired woman whom he presumes is the hospital's attending cardiologist. Janitor is standing just outside the door like a facsimile of a bodyguard, though his expression is one of forced nonchalance. Turk is running down the hallway, Elliot skidding around the corner behind him. The three reach the doorway at the same time, and after a momentary bottleneck, they burst through.

Perry's eyes scan the room anxiously, finally connecting with JD's. The younger man is awake, though drugged to the gills by the look of it. And though he is undoubtedly grateful to be alive and amongst his friends in the land of the living once more, he appears overwhelmed by the sheer amount of attention being dumped on him.

An earsplitting whistle quiets the dull roar and everyone turns to look at Cox, startled that he would be so loud in the room of a recovering patient. "Everyone except for the heart doctor and myself, get out. NOW." There's an odd note of tension in his voice, and though Turk looks as though he's going to protest being kicked out, Carla's hand on his forearm shuts his mouth, and he files out without a word. JD smiles, apparently amused by the attending's antics.

For the life of him, Cox can't remember the cardiologist's name, blatantly staring at her name badge, which unfortunately for him is flipped over. She raises an eyebrow and says, "It's McCoy." Before Cox can make a smart-ass response, she continues. "I finished the initial post-transplant check-up before I paged the head nurse. He's all yours." To whom she was addressing was unclear—Cox got the distinct and horrifying impression that she was speaking to JD, who was grinning wider than before as McCoy exited his room, shutting the door behind her.

An uncomfortable silence descended, and maybe that was because Newbie was actually quiet for once, waiting for Perry to make the first move. He crossed his arms and paced at the foot of the bed. "So, how's the new ticker treating you?" An inane question, masking the concern he felt at the younger man's near-demise.

"Fine." Newbie's voice is quiet and tired, but the fact that he's speaking at all is a reassurance. Maybe his relief shows in his eyes, because Newbie takes on a knowing expression.

"I'm glad you're alright," Cox admits, staring at the ground. JD smiles.

"Thanks. Me too." JD is quiet for a long while, staring at his hands folded in his lap while Perry paces around the room. The only sound is the scuffing of Cox's sneakers and the regular beeping of the heart monitor. The latter is a sound that Perry could listen to all day--proof that the young man that he'd started to (heaven forbid) have feelings for was alive and well, or at least on the road to recovery.

"You know, I thought you were going to..." Cox doesn't finish the thought. He doesn't need to--JD is nodding solemnly.

"Me too," he says again. "I was so sure I wasn't going to make it. But you want to know what kept me alive?" Cox turns his head, unable to look into those impossibly-blue eyes anymore. The impending revelation will be catastrophic, and he's not sure if he can survive the fall-out. But JD pauses until Cox is forced to look at him, already knowing the answer. "You."

He'd never have thought Newbie capable of such emotional maturity—the man always seemed like an overly excitable puppy--but this discussion wasn't dissolving into a mushy and confessional love fest like he'd been fearing.

Against his better judgment, Perry blurts out, "You know I'm not big on hand-holding, and I'm not going to start drinking appletinis, and you most definitely have to cut back on the amount of coconut-scented hair product you use because dear _god_ Newbie I can smell you from a mile away and no, I won't be cutting back on the nicknames and the whistling." He realizes after a pause how harsh that sounded, and tacks on a feeble, "Just so you know."

"I know, Perry."

The fact that JD just called him by his first name and he's not seeing red tells him he's made a big mistake. But it just might be the best decision of his life.

They're going to be okay.


End file.
